Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

By ELISABETH COBB AIL across the lagoon, two miles S straight out from Venice, and you will find a gleaming crescent of sand, fragrant with oleanders and heavy with hotels, that is called the Lido. For the long months of the winter, when chill and penetrating winds sweep the sea and the beaches are hammered with driving spray, it is buckler and shield for the aging and fragile bride of the Adriatic; but for the summer, when the sea gleams like a sapphire and is docile as a puddle, the Lido is the playground of all Venetians and a goodly quota of the jeweled, frivolous and expensive crowd that make millionaires of those fortunate pirates who own the hotels in fashionable European resorts. In June the poplars are clipped, the gar- dens cultivated to fragrant perfection, the celebrated French chef arrives, and the Lido’s greatest hotel throws open its doors to welcome the first guests—tourists who cannot afford the “ height of the season ” prices, but love Venice in her summer ef- fulgence. By July the white speed boats are racing back and forth from Danieli’s wharf every half hour, and the great open terrace of the hotel is decorated by a fair imitation of the season guest. By the first of August the Americans open their Pa- lazzas in Venice, the first English duchess and the first minor royalty, traveling in- cognito, arrive, and the price of rooms, food, bathing suits, and bath houses, soars beyond even the calculations of Italian cu- pidity. During an August day on the Hotel Ex- celsior’s walled beach one may see the gay- est and most colorful crowd in all Europe. The great world arrives, and within an hour 711 ECOmMmichbooks:co em ve “= — oo Ot he 1 a, ee ee